2. Yellow Gatorade #2
“Well, tough luck, Rookie.” I slid out of the car with a wink. “ You need supplies, and I’m the only one with two shoes.” I had looked for her other shoe, but it was nowhere to be found by the time I’d finally gotten her into the car.
Inside the drugstore though, it was me who was the rookie.
I gripped the back of my neck, staring at the wall of period products feeling totally lost. I wasn’t particularly shy about buying this stuff, but I’d never had sisters, or any long-term girlfriends for that matter, so I didn’t really know the lingo all that well.
I reached for a box that said heavy flow, deciding this situation definitely called for proper reinforcements.
Except Sara was relatively short, and as I compared the pictures on the box between the light and heavy options, it left me wondering, what if the big ones were too big to fit?
Was that a thing? And if they were too big—nope.
Never mind. I shook my head, wondering what the hell was wrong with me.
Just to be safe, I grabbed one of everything.
That left me balancing a precarious stack of supplies in one hand, wet wipes and hand sanitizer in the other, while I grabbed our drinks out of the cooler.
There was an entire wall of cold yellow Gatorade my favorite , but I didn’t hesitate as I grabbed one yellow and one blue.
It wasn’t until I reached the register, adding a bag of Sara’s favorite Sour Patch candy to the top of the pile, that I finally realized what a mess I was.
The woman ringing me up eyed me warily, and I took inventory of myself, realizing I probably looked like a serial killer taking a midnight snack break. Fan-freaking-tastic.
Sara rifled through the bag as I dropped the blue Gatorade into my cupholder and the yellow one into hers. “This is a lot of stuff.” She finally commented.
“I wasn’t sure what to get.” I admitted. “Do you need anything else? I can go back in if I missed something.”
“No, this definitely, definitely covers it.”
I reparked the car in a dark corner of the lot and slipped into the cool night air, so she could sort herself out.
As I leaned against the trunk of my McLaren, the cold didn’t bother me at all because I was fuming.
My blood was practically boiling as I considered five different ways to beat someone to a pulp, and the second I figured out who she was with, I was going to use them all.
Over the years, I’d always tried to keep an eye out for her, and this was so beyond unacceptable, I couldn’t even wrap my brain around it.
“Better?” I asked quietly as I settled back into the car with the smell of hand sanitizer in the air.
“It’s as good as it’s gonna get until I get home.” She murmured, staring too hard at her hands in her lap.
“It’s not a big deal.” I pulled back out onto the road.
“It’s embarrassing.” She had a strange quality in her voice that made my stomach knot. “ I’m disgusting.”
“You don’t think that.” I said gently, not sure if I was asking her or telling her, but she was quiet, far too quiet. “Is that what your date said?” I finally asked, pulling into the Burrito Bell drive-through and rolling my window down.
“Welcome to Burrito Bell, home of the Bell…” A tired voice crackled through the static speakerphone with the specials as I looked at Sara, waiting for an answer.
“No questions, remember?” She huffed, shooting me a glare.
I gave her a pointed look, to the effect of we’re coming back to this and turned to order our usual.
“Four deluxe soft tacos, that’ll be all.
” I said, already pulling forward towards the drive-through window.
Two for her, two for me, except they were huge and she almost never finished the second one.
“What if I don’t want a soft taco?” Sara crossed her arms over her chest and threw me a defiant look as one brow shot up.
Yes. A sparkling ray of her glorious mischief was singing, let’s play. Whether she realized it or not, that was everything I needed to know—that she was going to be okay, despite whatever shitstorm she’d just been through. And tonight , I desperately needed to know that she’d be okay.
“Would you like something else?” I asked skeptically, the corner of my mouth quirking up as I suppressed a full-on grin.
“Maybe I do, but I didn’t get the chance to look at the menu.” She complained, her long lashes fluttering in a way that had me white-knuckling my steering wheel again.
“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” My eyes darted down to her seatbelt, checking that she was still buckled in— she was.
My grin broke free, and her eyes went wide with realization. “Carter, no.” She barely got the words out as I punched the pedal.
We accelerated past the first window, then the second, in a blur. Her scream was a delight to my ears as I drifted around the parking lot in a tight circle and came to a screeching stop in front of the ordering menu again.
“Carter!” she reprimanded me, but her scowl broke into a small grin that she immediately tried to cover, but I caught it anyway and threw my head back, barking a satisfied, throaty laugh. “I hate it when you do that.” She complained.
“No, you don’t.” I teased. “So let’s hear it, what would you like, pretty girl?”
She glared at me and unbuckled, but when she leaned across me, my laughter was cut off at the knees—I froze as the scent of strawberry, amber, and something warmly sweet, like honey, invaded my adrenaline-spiked senses while she shouted through my window, “Could I have one soft taco, please?”
I stifled a laugh and added with a smug gleam. “Deluxe.”
“Yes, deluxe.” She emphasized tartly, giving me a roll of her eyes before sliding back down into her seat. Stubborn as ever.
I slowly rolled towards the first window, passing my credit card to the annoyed-looking worker, who was not amused with my apology.
“Don’t forget, I always know what you want.” I reminded Sara and leaned back against the headrest, just watching her.
“Not always.” She muttered, giving me a look I couldn’t quite decipher. “For your information, I don’t always get a soft taco.”
“ Yes , you do.” I chuckled, passing her the warm paper bag.
Sara casually sorted the tacos between the two of us while I parked the car facing an empty field.
“Nice try.” I chuckled, moving the extra one she’d ordered back over to her side.
“You’re going to make me eat all this?!” she demanded with mock offense, even as she devoured her first one, already completely ensconced in the task.
I shrugged. “Clean plate club, don’t let me down, Devereux.”
“No promises.” She rolled her eyes, mumbling through an adorable mouthful, and I watched intently as she took another massive bite.
I couldn’t help but admire the way the streetlamp illuminated the rogue curl that was hanging over her face, like a baroque painting. The image was certainly more beautiful than any of the priceless paintings I had hanging on my walls or hidden away in my portfolio.
I desperately wished I could take a picture of her, something to take with me, but I knew it’d spoil the moment. Not to mention, my phone was back in the ditch. So I just watched her with quiet admiration instead, trying to burn the image of her into my mind—every little perfect, bewitching detail.
Earlier tonight she’d been flawlessly elegant, just like she’d planned, no doubt.
She’d descended those stairs with her shoulders back, smile wide, not a hair out of place, looking enchantingly beautiful and now —her natural curls were fighting their way out of her polished hair style with a vengeance and it wasn’t even a question in my mind.
I preferred her like this , hair a bit frizzy—partly my doing, I supposed—a little undone, comfortable, guard down. It was so us.
These moments with her, there was something vastly intimate about it, and I knew I’d miss it. Miss her.
I smiled to myself as she inhaled her food like a cute little gremlin, heavy breathing intermixed with small sounds of satisfaction. It made my mind wander, despite my best efforts.
She suddenly looked up at me with a sheepish grin, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. “What?”
I smiled softly. “Nothing.” Everything .
“You’d better hurry up, Kensington, or I’m going to beat you.” She threatened, always so competitive.
I chuckled, knowing exactly how this would go as I reached for a taco. “It’s not a race, you know.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re behind.” She said through another adorably determined mouthful, while I proceeded to shove the entire thing into my mouth in what was essentially two big bites. Not behind anymore.
She tried to match my pace, but it left her with furious eyes and chipmunk cheeks.
“Rookie move.” I teased, already crumpling the wrapper and dusting off my hands.
She mumbled something I couldn’t interpret through her mouthful, but I was pretty sure it was a colorful string of curses.
I smiled to myself, knowing everyone always thought she was such a goody two-shoes, but I knew better.
She was comfortable enough to let her guard down with me, and show that unfiltered side, and I loved it.
I opened her yellow Gatorade with a grin. “Almost there, don’t fold yet.”
She rolled her eyes but grunted in thanks, taking the drink. A moment later, after several slow, laborious bites, she finally with great defeat passed her leftovers over the console, which I happily polished off, like I always did.
We just sat like that for a long while, staring out into the dark field, neither of us saying anything. Comfortable silence. Easy. Familiar.
Until the question burning in my mind finally had to be acknowledged. “So, who were you with?” Her gaze dropped, and I nudged her with my elbow. “Come on, you can tell me anything.”
“I’m tired, Carter. Will you please just take me home?” She looked out her window, refusing to look back at me.
“Well, that’s too bad.” I argued gently enough as I crossed my arms over my chest and settled in.
“I guess it’s going to be a long night for the both of us, because I’m not moving until I have a name.
So you think it over, and when you’re ready, you can tell me which scum bag abandoned you on the side of the road covered in blood. ”
She was staring at her hands again. “Please don’t be mad, I just can’t.”
“I’m already mad.” The understatement of the century.
“Just promise me you won’t do anything.”
I grabbed her chin between my fingers, and her breath hitched when I turned her head towards me, looking her square in the eye. “The only thing I can promise you is that when I’m done with whoever he is, he’s a dead man.”
Pure fear flashed through her eyes, and in that moment, all the terrible scenarios that had been running through my mind won, and I snapped.